As I walked this morning, it occured to me that one of the songs I was listening to might resonate with my son, so I thought, "I should make him a CD." Then, I thought, "Hmmm. I wonder if he would actually listen to it....."
But then my mind wandered and a memory started wiggling its way to the surface; the scenario seemed familiar. And then it burst forth:
...a plastic Memorex cassette tape with the words "Sandi Patti"
scrawled in my dad's somewhat legible handwriting...
Ah, yes. It was familiar because I remember my dad doing the exact same thing for me. And the reason I was so certain Owen wouldn't listen to it was because I never listened to the tape my dad lovingly made for me. It makes my heart hurt a little bit to write that, but it's the truth.
But today I remembered, and while I initially winced at my disregard for what was obviously a loving gesture by my dad, I am left with simple gratitude for the man that he is now, and always has been. A couple weeks ago, a friend from Bible study remarked on a Bible I'd left in the prayer room of our former church, saying how much she enjoyed the translation. In the spot for inscription in the front of that Bible, my dad had filled in my name, his, and the date--my senior year of college. What's kind of funny is that he also gave me a Bible the year I left for college. And then there was the small New Testament he gave me the fall my mom was found to have a brain tumor and I sat with him at the hospital while she had surgery and recovered. Finally, there's my grandma's Bible that he gave me last Christmas after she passed away.
My dad has given me so much. Life. Love. Faith. Things. Too many to enumerate, so I won't try. What I will do is say that of all those things, that tape and all those Bibles are the very best. And not even because I use them so much--like I said, I never listened to the tape, and while I can still account for all the Bibles, I have different translations I use now. The reason those gifts are so meaningful is because of what they represent; in his trademark understated, quiet, yet persistent way, he was telling me what was most important. It took some time, but about eight years ago, I really got it. My dad wasn't there when that took place, but he got to hear about it from a distance. Hopefully, he sees it now every time we get to visit.
I've said before that I like to accept credit for things, and my faith is not untouched by that. (PRIDE. ick.) However, every day, and especially today as I think about my dad on his birthday, I know in the deepest places in my heart that he was always there, doing what God calls all of us who follow Christ to do--sharing the Gospel--even if I didn't seem to be "getting it." So, on this day when I ought to be thinking of giving gifts to him, I am in the position of humble thanks for what he has given to me. I am so grateful.
While I do have an actual gift for him, maybe there's something else that's much less tangible, but certainly more meaningful I can give.... In honor of my dad, I'm going to go ahead and make that CD for Owen, not caring if he ever listens to it or not, because there may come a day when he is hit by the memory that his mom cared so much about him that she made him a CD.
For right now, though, I'm heading down to the basement to see if I can find an old cassette tape.... ;)
